| 2nd page of LECTEROTICA. “No, Clarice.” She put her hand down. He cut his eyes toward the headboard. She knew that was where he wanted her. Slowly, he stood and let his trousers fall to the floor. He picked them up and casually draped them over one of the bottom bedposts. By this time, Clarice had climbed onto the large Colonial bed and knelt at the mahogany headboard, hands caressing its elaborate carved scrollwork. She felt him approach, and shivered, knowing what he was seeing: Buttocks exposed, legs spread, her long hair draped over her back and shoulders, the tiny straps collapsed, hanging down along her upper arms. She felt a drop of moisture trail along the inside of her thigh, and knew he was watching it make its way down to the pillow. She hoped he would come forward and remove it with his tongue, but he simply stood close by, observing her. Involuntarily, she stretched her back like a cat, her desire causing her to undulate, as she kept her hands firmly on the headboard. She turned her head slightly in his direction, but did not look at him. After a long while, she heard a soft movement, and then the room was plunged into darkness as he took the deepest green scarf and brought it down over her eyes. It was a long strip of material, and he was able to wrap it twice around her head, ensuring that she could not see through it. S till, it was translucent enough to give her some muted light. She saw only shifting green shadows and felt his hands tying the scarf at the back of her head. When he had finished, he lifted her hair and ran his fingers through it again and again, finally smoothing it into a long line down the center of her back. His hands traced its length until it ended just above her waist. It had grown steadily; he washed and brushed it nightly, in the weeks since she had come to stay with him. After a moment, he gathered her hair again and she felt the feather-light material at the nape of her neck. He was tying back her hair, tucking this scarf under the one that he’d blindfolded her with. Then, a brief teasing puff of air on her bare neck. Her breathing became more labored; she rotated her head in slow circles, then extended her tongue to taste her own shoulder. She heard him chuckle low in his throat, and then he obliged her by blowing the moisture off her skin. Then, for some minutes, nothing. The wait was unbearable. Finally, she felt the lightest touch—his fingers at her waist. They lingered there for a moment, caressing, and her flesh rippled in response. Then she moaned involuntarily as something tickled the very top of the cleft between her buttocks—one of her top three erogenous zones. She clenched her teeth and tightened her thighs, knees digging into the pillows. Taking his time, Lecter drew the scarf back and forth, barely brushing it against that delicious place. More droplets escaped from her. This was his intent—to perfume the pillows with her scent to enhance his sleep tonight. Her moans turned to groans, and finally he arranged this third scarf loosely, first lifting the bottom edge of the gown, and draping the scarf over her hips, tying it with the ends hanging forward so that they grazed her clitoris whenever she moved. Craving the elusive sensation, she intensified her struggles. In another moment, she’d be unable to resist the urge to caress her own thighs. Lecter must have anticipated this. The fourth scarf was used to bind her wrists to the bed, and whereas he usually made it a point to tie her loosely, this time she felt some savagery in his movements, as he jerked the material, making close cuffs around her wrists, bringing them close together and forcefully knotting them to the headboard. He tested the binding several times to make sure she couldn't work herself loose. She obliged him by struggling vainly. The effort caused the straps of her gown to droop farther; now they were at her elbows and consequently, the scant covering at her breasts fell entirely away and she felt the cool air on them. They jutted out between her closely tied arms, touching them and offering further stimulation with every movement. She wondered where the fifth scarf would be used, but didn’t have to wonder long. Lecter grasped the pillow under her left knee and tugged gently, moving it closer to the edge of the bed. She let her knee travel with the pillow, and soon the cool caress of chiffon was at her ankle. The tension told her he was knotting it around the bed frame. He stepped briskly to the other side of the bed and did the same with her right leg. Her thighs were now spread to the max; her legs ached and trembled and she rocked from side to side to ease the stress. The fishnet stockings began to feel tight and itchy. Lecter took the seventh scarf and encircled her left thigh. Slowly, sensually, he worked it under the elastic top of the stocking, and she felt its coolness under the tight nylon. Then he threaded the ends in between the mesh and, using them as handles, gently worked the stocking down, off her thigh, down to the pillow. A brief tug instructed her to lift her knee. With her ankle bound to the bed, it was an effort. Her buttocks tensed and she felt his exhalation on them. She was so aroused, she could clearly detect her own scent and knew it must be driving him to his limit. Down came the stocking. He undid the buckle of the shoe and it plopped to the rug. He continued coaxing the stocking and the scarf, and somehow maneuvered them under the binding at her ankle. He seemed determined to do it just this way; it was hard work and she felt him sit on the bed so he could apply himself. Still, so deft were his fingers, she never felt them touch her flesh. Nothing but the scarves. He heaved himself off the bed and went to her right side, following the same course with her other stocking. Her legs and feet were finally free, except for the scarves. There was almost nothing covering her now. Then he took the ninth scarf and began to play with her. He drew it slowly between the toes of her left foot, winding it in and out, but never tickling. She felt the sensations shoot straight up her legs and pool between them. He stayed on that side of the bed, but leaned over it, dangling the scarf, dipping it toward her right foot—the toes, the heel, the sole, swirling it around the top of her foot. It felt heavenly, and she rotated her foot in the limited orbit allowed by her bonds. Turn page to next part of story.... |